


at last i've seen the light

by nyckolodeo_n



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: But without the singing, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Protective Sokka (Avatar), Take the Zhao & Zuko with a grain of salt, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyckolodeo_n/pseuds/nyckolodeo_n
Summary: To celebrate the baby’s renowned health, Ursa decided to start a new tradition; the lighting of a gold and red paper lantern; commemorating Agni and all she’s done for them. Ozai believed it to be a waste of time, Azulon silently agreed, but there is nothing more blessed than a royal baby being saved by the spirits themselves. A mural is created for all to see, hanging proudly from the outer palace walls.
Relationships: Azula & Ursa (Avatar), Druk & Sokka (Avatar), Druk & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Ursa (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Zhao & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 146





	1. a prince long lost

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [now that i see you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344675) by [lesmiserablol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesmiserablol/pseuds/lesmiserablol). 



> So here it is, the Tangled AU that no one really asked for but that I have been obsessing over for the last week. 
> 
> My goal is to update once a week, but the Tangled universe is complex and to properly adjust it to how I want to tell the story the way I want to, it will most likely be every other week. I will not put an end chapter to this, because I honestly don't know how long this will end up being. I have a terrible habit of taking too long to write stuff, so feel free to bother me about updates if you feel like I'm taking too long.

_ When King Azulon descends from the throne, he announces his youngest son Ozai as his predecessor. He does not want to, Caldera deserves a better ruler (better than his father, better than  _ him _ ), but also knows his oldest is in no shape to run a country. Iroh has just lost his son, has turned into a broken shell of the man he should-- _ would  _ have been had his own heir survived the raid of the Ba Sing Se villages (A raid  _ he _ had ordered). At Ozai’s coronation, Iroh stands there, face passive and unfocused. Ursa, Ozai’s wife, stands next to him with what the people will see as pride, but Azulon knows better, knows the pain she has also suffered, even if it was unknowingly partly at his hand. When they are done being introduced, Ozai and Ursa sit upon their thrones as their crowns are placed upon their heads. Ursa holds her bulging belly, rubbing circles on it seemingly subconsciously.  _

_ When Iroh notices, he shoots her a brief look of pity, gone in a flash a moment later.  _

_ This is not their first child, Ursa and Ozai. Their firstborn was a boy—Zuko—born too early and full of sickness. Ursa sat by his crib day and night, praying to Agni to save her son. Ozai has given up on him early. “Why would I waste my time with a sick child?” He had said, “He won’t even make it through the week.” Azulon had silently agreed; a baby too weak to survive outside its mother’s womb will not grow to be a great ruler. Even so, at the time that is his only grandchild, and he wants nothing more than for him to survive. So when the palace staff begins to whisper about a cure to all illnesses, a magic flower with indescribable power, he jumps at the chance to find it.  _

_ Accompanied by only his most trusted guards, Azulon rode out to the field where the flower grew. When he found it, he could not help but admire it. It is a beautiful golden thing, shaped like the sun and shining like Agni herself blessed it. Gently, he had commanded the guards to dig it up and take it back to the palace. In his hurry, he did not see what looked like a cover laying next to where the flower once stood. Like someone was protecting it. Like someone was trying to keep it a secret.  _

_ He did not see that they were followed back to the palace.  _

_ Upon their arrival, the court physicians immediately began preparing the newborn prince”s anecdote. Ursa has still not left the baby’s side and hovers almost obnoxiously as her handmaidens coax the boy to swallow every drop. For a moment there is nothing; Zuko’s eyes drift back shut, and he makes small sounds of distress in the back of his throat. Then he opens his eyes and everyone in the room freezes. The tell-tale amber-colored eyes that Zuko gets from his bloodline are no more, and the babe’s eyes had shone like the spirit of Agni herself now rested within his body. Around him, a sheen of fire covered his body that neither burned him nor the crib he laid in. Ursa had cried tears of joy. Ozai looked intrigued, but still like he’d rather any other outcome had come true. _

_ To celebrate the baby’s renowned health, Ursa decided to start a new tradition; the lighting of a gold and red paper lantern; commemorating Agni and all she’s done for them. Ozai believed it to be a waste of time, Azulon silently agreed, but there is nothing more blessed than a royal baby being saved by the spirits themselves. A mural is created for all to see, hanging proudly from the outer palace walls.  _

_ Azulon frowns internally at the memory. The joy of the new prince’s survival did not last long. Days later, once Ursa had finally found it safe to let the prince sleep alone, someone had come into the palace and stolen the child away. No note, no traces of who the intruder might be, no ransom demand to guarantee the young child’s safety. Ozai seemed not to care of this development, though at his wife’s behest he sent out riders to look high and low for the boy. Each time they would come back empty-handed and each time Ursa too became a shell of who she once was. Still, two years later, she has not lost hope. Every year since (and Azulon predicts every year to come) she releases the gold and red paper lanterns, symbols of Agni on its surface in hopes the Spirit will bring her son home. The city, whose people love their new queen, follow suit and pay tribute along with her.  _

_ As the procession retreats back into the palace, Azulon cannot help but think the poor woman is wasting her time; a new child will soon be born, who will need all her mother’s time. She should not have to fight with a ghost for her mother’s love. Ozai gave up a week after Zuko disappeared, but the former king supposes Ozai and Ursa have never been very similar when it comes to matters of the heart. As soon as they’re out of sight of the people, the former king lays a brief and comforting hand on the new queen’s shoulder.  _

_ Discreetly, before he can pull away, Ursa lays her hand on his.  _

_ -x- _

_ On the same night as the new king and queen’s coronation, deep in the forest and far away from the kingdom’s capital city, an old man sits in a stone tower. His hair is starting to grey at the roots, and his facial hair rough and unkempt. He stares out the window, the barest of sounds from the city’s celebrations reaching the forest clearing. He grimaces at the sound. Suddenly, a young boy waddles behind him, pulling on his pants leg. When the man looks down at him, the toddler is reaching up for him, eyes big and shining like he’s holding back tears or fighting his sleep. “Papa?” He says, voice small but loud in the silence of the tower.  _

_ “What is it, little one?” The old man says as scoops him up, rocking him. “You should be sleeping.” _

_ “Outside loud.” The young boy says, rubbing his eyes and tucking his head in his caretaker’s neck. “Sing?” _

_ “Of course.” The man carries the toddler back to his room, humming a melodic tune under his breath. When they get there, he lays the young boy down and the toddler immediately grabs his father’s hand. The man caresses his cheek. “Hum along with me, little one.”  _

**_Flower gleam and glow_ **

**_Let your powers shine_ **

**_Make the clock reverse_ **

**_Bring back what once was mine_ **

**_What once was mine._ **

_ As they sing, the boy’s eyes begin to glow, his hair grows an inch, and a fire-like glow covers his body. Because they are touching, the glow covers the man as well, and he smiles at the wonder seeping onto the young boy’s face mixed in with his exhaustion. As he finally falls asleep, the man covers him with his blankets and makes his way back downstairs to tidy up before he goes to bed himself. As he cleans, we see his reflection in the mirror. His hair is no longer grey in any place, returning to its natural brown state; his facial hair is now shaped perfectly, sideburns full and attaching themselves properly to his hair; any possible wrinkles that may have existed on his skin now gone. _

_ Before he goes to his own room, he stops by the young boy’s room once more. He is still glowing, only slightly and he has finally fallen asleep. The man smirks. He remembers the search parties that galloped through the forest, stopping their search only a year ago. He remembers hearing them ride right by his clearing, the canopy of vines that hides his meadow creating a natural camouflage that even their greatest horses and hounds had not found. He regrets none of it. Kidnapping the great Prince Zuko has been Zhao’s greatest feat.  _

_ And he will never give him up.  _

_ (He does not know just how wrong that is.) _


	2. a seed planted in your mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with the first official chapter! Before we continue, a few disclaimers;
> 
> 1) While this is a Tangled-based fic, I've taken my own liberties about how the story will actually progress. Besides this first chapter, and a couple of the obvious plot-building events we all want to see these dumb boys participate in, this will be entirely my own.  
> 2) I am still in the process of trying to find me a beta, so any mistakes, be it grammatically or with the writing itself, is all me until I can find someone to help me.  
> 3) This is my first full-body fic of this magnitude so please be kind to me.  
> 4) The more interactions/encouragement I get, the more I'll be inspired to write which means faster/better updates with each chapter.  
> 5) I know this is like extremely behind the schedule I originally said, I'm so sorry :( My goal from here forward is to update every other Friday, starting today, so the next update should hopefully be New Year's Day. 
> 
> Okay, enough talking from me, enjoy!

“Druk, where are you?” Zuko sing-songs as he peeks out the window into the sky. It is not an easy feat as his view is quite limited by the stone that makes up the tower's uppermost roof. “Come on buddy, it’s almost time for Father to return, I need to hide you before he gets back!” Zuko listens, and frowns at the eerie lack of sound from any direction. Not even the sound of wind, from his dragon’s wings or otherwise, can be heard whispering through the trees. “Druk!” When a few moments pass and Druk still hasn’t returned, Zuko has an idea. “Okay, well I guess when Father brings home that goat I convinced him we needed, I won’t save you any!” There’s movement in the trees. Zuko smirks.

Quietly, Zuko makes footstep sounds as if he’s walking away, hiding to the side of the window's opening. He hears Druk come back inside and when the dragon comes zooming inside only to not see his companion, all Zuko has to say is _gotcha_ before his red-and-gold friend nearly falls to the ground in shock. He glares at a laughing Zuko as he regains his balance. “Don’t be like that buddy, you know my father can’t see you,” Zuko says. Druk flies over to wrap around his neck and shoulders, remembers he’s definitely too big to do that anymore, and lands to walk beside its human companion instead. Zuko grazes his knuckles across the red scales as he makes his way downstairs. On his way he picks up stray items from the floor and tables he passes, straightening up the area best he can before his father returns, and Druk goes over to the fireplace to take a nap. His catches sight of his hair in the mirror as he walks past and grimaces; it’s time for a trim. Zuko sighs. He should be happier about his father’s return than he is but he’s really more nervous than anything. 

Because the thing is; Zuko has _never_ been outside of his and his father’s tower. 

He’s always wanted to, he longs to know what grass feels like between his toes, what rain feels like on his face, to watch Druk soar through the air while Zuko lounges in the valley surrounding his home. Even more, he wants to meet other _people_ ; the only other person he’s ever known is his dad--who he _loves_ please don’t get him wrong-- but he longs for adventure, to see the world and all the wonderful things it has to offer. Zhao has warned him against his willingness to see the good in people; “ _The world is filled with terrible people,”_ Zhao had told him when he was just seven, sitting in front of the fireplace for his nightly hair-brushing. Zuko had asked, as he fiddled with the turtleduck carving Zhao had gotten him for his last birthday, why his dad was allowed to go outside but he wasn’t. _“They’re all liars and thieves who want to take you away from me and ruin our happiness. You must promise me you’ll never leave this tower. I cannot stand the thought of us being apart from one another.”_

Zuko had of course agreed at the time, he was seven and never _ever_ wanted to be apart from his father, but things are different now. _He’s_ different. In three days, Zuko is going to be be eighteen, something he’s read in his more imaginative books as being like a _huge_ deal, and for his coming of age he has one very special request.

To see the beautiful, _beautiful_ lights that floated to the sky on his birthday.

Every year since he was a little boy, on the night of his birthday when his father has retired to his own room Zuko sneaks from his own, staring out the window and imagining all the wonderful adventures he could go on. The third year he’d done this, Father had gone to bed early, saying he had a long trip to go on the next morning and he needed the extra sleep. When Zuko had gone downstairs that night, he had seen a strange cluster of candlelight, all the flames the same size and both too yellow and not high enough in the sky to be stars. It had been the greatest thing he’d ever seen, and he longed to see them in person, maybe even touch one.

But before now, the idea had never been possible. He could still hear the upset tone of his father’s voice, Zhao’s condescending _you’re too naive to make it out in the real world_ echoing in his ears when he thought about bringing it up before and from the few occasions that he had tried to breach the topic. Zuko would not be discouraged this time. You only turn eighteen once, and the black-haired boy was going to see those lights if it was the last thing he ever did.

(If it comes up, please don’t quote him on that last part.)

Zuko is shaken out of his daze by the telltale sign of Zhao whistling as he comes into their tower’s clearing. Cursing under his breath, Zuko scrambles to wake Druk from his slumber and up into his hiding place behind the drapes that covers one of Zuko's favorite paintings. Unsurprisingly, it is also Zhao’s _least_ favorite painting his son has ever done due to what it contains. Once he’s sure that Druk is well hidden (he’s the size of a large horse now, it’s getting harder and harder to hide him every day), he moves to the window to pull the rope that lets down the platform his father uses to come and go from the tower. Zuko tries not to pout in jealousy. When his father and his findings are securely on the platform, Zuko pulls the rope back in the opposite direction, quickly securing it to its weight and helping the other man haul in their new food and supplies.

“Zuko, my boy, I see you finally decided to get out of bed,” Zhao bellows, loud and full of bravado. Zuko forces himself not to roll his eyes, but to smile instead. He needs to stay in his father's good graces today. “Your old man must be getting heavier with my old age,” he says. Zuko doesn’t get it. 

“Um, no you—“

“Then you need to be faster when you pull me back up. One second too long in the natural weather and any of our food could have spoiled .” Zhao ruffles his hair as he walks to the cooking area. Zuko tries not to pout. “I’m just messing with ya, kid.” His father says around a laugh, and Zuko forces himself to join in. But only to stay in his good graces. 

“Father, I need my hair cut.” Zuko says. The older man locks eyes with Zuko and nods in acknowledgement, pointing to where they keep the shearing blade. Zuko grabs it and his stool, sitting dutifully in front of the rocking chair the other sits in for this process. Zhao brings him an egg and some fruit to eat through the process before sitting down and getting to work. Silently, the two sit like this while Zuko builds up the nerve to breach his very sensitive topic. Finally he settles on, “My birthday is coming up,” and winces internally. _Nice going, Zuko._ Zhao’s hand briefly hesitates on a section that seems to be giving him a particularly hard time before continuing. 

“Already?” He says playfully, “I could’ve sworn we celebrated that already.”

“Yeah, _last year,_ ” is the boy’s retort, and he internally winces at the tone of his voice. Zhao just chuckles and Zuko continues with growing confidence. “Since this is a special year, I wanted to _ask_ for a gift rather than being _surprised_ with one. Not that you don’t pick out great gifts!” Zuko backtracks quickly, not wanting the bearded man to be offended, “I just had something specific in mind this year.” It’s quiet between them for a moment before his father hums in thought, touching Zuko’s neck lightly in encouragement. Zuko takes a deep breath, sending a small prayer up to whatever deity is listening. Here goes nothing. “I want to see the floating lights.”

Not only do his father’s fingers freeze in his hair, his grip tightens enough to make Zuko wince. “I thought,” the older man said with restraint, “that we had put an end to this silly dream of yours.” Zuko frowns, and when he looks up at his painting he resolves not to give up.

“I know, I know, but please just hear me out,” Zuko starts, rising from his stool to pace. “I’m turning _eighteen_ , dad, and you know how much I love those lights. They’re a complete anomaly, only showing up once a year _on my birthday_ , and I know they aren’t stars because _you_ make me study stars and they don’t follow any of the--” the rest of Zuko’s argument dies in his throat as he finally looks at his dad’s face. 

And boy, does he look absolutely livid.

“Zuko, I tolerated your curiosity when you were a boy, but you know how I feel about you leaving this tower.” Zuko opens his mouth to retaliate, but Zhao just gives him a _look_ and he immediately snaps his mouth shut. Zuko pouts, his father takes a calming breath. “You know it’s too dangerous to leave the tower, _especially_ at night and _especially_ for multiple days at a time. I can’t make the trip with you, you know I have to go to Omashu tomorrow, so how exactly were you going to get there? Alone?” Zuko has to fight the urge to look towards Druk’s hiding place, and just shrugs in response. Apparently in some way that was the right thing to say because his dad laughs, loud and boisterous. Zuko stares incredulously.

“Oh, thank you for that, boy. I needed a good laugh.” Wiping a tear from his eyes, he sits back down in his rocking chair. “Now, come back here and let me finish this so you can get to your studies.” When Zuko stands resolutely in place, the other’s expression darkens. “Zuko. Now.”

“But dad, I --”

“No!” Zhao stands up quickly, striding over to the younger boy. Zuko doesn’t have enough time to react before his dad grabs him by the back of his neck, dragging him over to the mirror. “What do you see?” He asks, like this is a question Zuko is just supposed to understand and know the answer off the top of his head. His expression shows his confusion, Zhao’s grip tightens. “ _What_ do you _see_?” Zuko doesn’t understand. He sees himself; the top of his head lines up directly with Zhao’s chin, his long black hair disappearing past the nape of his neck where his father hasn’t finished cutting it and what he has stops right at his shoulder; he’s slender compared to Zhao, and you can tell the difference between the way the older man’s muscles and shoulders stand out and strain against his tunic, while Zuko’s muscles are noticeable, but his tunic fits him more loosely. Zuko just sees Zhao and Zuko, but he doesn’t think that’s the right answer, so he just looks his father in the eyes, lost and confused. Zhao sneers.

“I see a boy with no real knowledge of the world trying to play man. Those books of yours have got it in your head that you’re ready to be amongst people, in the real world, but really you know nothing.” He releases his hold and paces the perimeter of the room. “Say, you’re taking a walk in the forest. An older woman in ragged clothes approaches you and asks if you can spare some food,” He pauses, blows out a candle, and continues his trek around the room. “It’s the middle of the night, the woman says she’s traveling with her grandchild, who is sleeping at a camp they’ve set up not too far from there.” He blows out another candle. “What do you do?”

Zuko feels like he’s being tricked. “If I have enough, I give her some.” As he’s talking, Zhao has blown out another candle. Though it’s the middle of the day, it’s unnervingly dark in the room.

“You turn your back to reach for your spare food, and suddenly,” another candle, “there’s something sharp embedding its way into your back. The woman says you either give her _all_ of your food or she’ll stab you and take it anyway. There was never really a grandchild.” Another candle, and now only one is left alight and Zuko can’t even see Zhao anymore, is depending on the sound of his voice to tell Zuko where he is. “What do you do?”

Now, Zuko _knows_ he’s being tricked. “I give her my--” Before he can finish, Zhao has made his way over to the last candle and resolutely blows it out. The room is pitch black, and Zuko really wishes he knew which way he was facing, but the curtains are drawn and even the barest hint of sunlight seeping in through the cracks in the cobblestone don’t do enough to stave off the sense of panic growing in Zuko’s chest. A floorboard creaks somewhere behind him and he whips around to find its source. Another one creaks to his left, and he tries to follow it, but the creaks seem to be echoing one another, coming from all sides of the room and confusing Zuko more than ever. He doesn’t want this, it’s too dark, he wants his father, he wants this to, “STOP!” His shout is overbearing in the silence, but finally, _finally_ Zhao has lit a candle and the moment Zuko spots him, he rushes over into the comforting hug that awaits him.

“The world is too dangerous a place for you, my child,” Zhao says sweetly as he pets Zuko’s hair. “People are not to be trusted, and I will do any and everything to protect you from them. But you must _stop_ with these silly notions of floating lights and leaving the tower. I cannot protect you if we were to get separated.” Zuko nods into the man’s chest, sniffling lightly. He doesn’t even register when the other man leads them back to the rocking chair and stool, but he does register the feeling of his turtleduck carving leaving imprints in his palm.

He sits there silently, and the only sound in the room for a while is the sound of the shears as they _snip snip snip_ at Zuko’s hair. Druk is trying to peek at him through the curtains, eyes sad and Zuko’s never been happier than now that space on the wall where he paints is more of an oversized nook than just a flat wall. Zhao would’ve surely seen Druk otherwise and Zuko isn’t sure he can take two heartbreaks in one day. When Zhao finishes, the black-haired boy finally speaks again, “I...I have another birthday idea. Can I have a new carving knife? From the vendor in Omashu you got my last one from?” Zuko tries not to think about how soft his voice is, how small he feels. Zhao sighs, and Zuko knows why.

“I guess since I’m already going. I’ll leave today instead of waiting to give me the extra time to pick out the right one for you.” Zuko feels his father running his fingers through his hair to make sure the ends are all even. When he’s done, he kisses the crown of the young boy’s head and moves to pack his travel bags for his trip. Because of how long of a trip it is, Zhao has left most of their food with Zuko so he doesn’t starve. He will get his own as he travels. Climbing out the window, the older man grabs the young boy’s neck lightly once more. “I’ll be back in time for you to wake up on your birthday. Keep up with your studies.” Zuko nods dejectedly, going to lower the platform. The moment Zhao is out of sight, Druk swoops in and wraps his body around Zuko’s.

He may or may not cry, but no one is here to snitch on him but Druk, and Zuko has a feeling he’ll keep it to himself.

-x-

Running and dodging arrows from the Caldera City palace guards, Sokka comes to the conclusion that for city guards those guys are absolute _horrible_ shots. Sokka is a decent runner, has great stamina from his upbringing, but Hahn is beyond incompetent in terms of being aware of his surroundings and when to anticipate a blow. If they can't even land a shot on that guy, what on earth made the royal family choose them as official guards? Not that Sokka is actually complaining, as it makes escaping with the lost prince’s precious (and oh so expensive) crown extremely easy. “Hope you can keep up, we’re taking a shortcut!” He shouts back at his companions, properly securing his satchel around his shoulder and immediately turns to wall-walk himself onto the roof of a cabbage merchant. There’s a shout that can only mean one of them (fucking _Hahn_ ) probably destroyed something and Sokka curses under his breath and tries to memorize where they are so he can come back and repay the man later. 

Destruction is only okay when it’s aimed at royals and noblemen, not merchants who are just trying to make a living. They’ve been over this. Extensively.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t plan on sticking with them long enough for it to matter. Sokka is a one-man show after all.

Sokka continues his trek on the rooftops, jumping into a grassy clearing below the house at the end of line. When he gets up, an arrow flies much closer to his face than any of the others had and he immediately falls back on his ass. Looking in the direction the offending object came from, Sokka stops short. On top of a beautiful chestnut stallion is the most terrifying girl he’s ever seen, and he’s related to _Katara_ . Her black hair is slicked back into a flawless topknot, two thin bangs hanging on either side of her face. Sokka only gets a moment to think _she looks really familiar_ before she’s knocking another arrow and aiming it seemingly straight for his head.

Sokka squeals and ducks just in time for the arrow to barely graze the side of his head, springing back into action. He can feel a trickle of blood forming on his temple. Jet looks entirely too bored considering the fact they literally just committed _treason_ , and are _literally_ running for their lives, but at least he can keep up. Hahn is only just now joining them in the clearing. He nearly collapses from exhaustion and Sokka has to physically restrain himself from face-palming. He can _not_ , however stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Nice of you to join us. Let’s get a move on.” He takes off into the forest, taking turn after turn by memory alone and hoping the other two are able to keep up because he needs to string them along just a little bit longer. Another arrow flies just too close to his face and he curses. His plan did not account for...whoever that was, and he’s going to have to seriously recalculate. 

Finally he makes it to the gorge, one he knows for a fact that he can climb but that the other two decidedly _can’t_. Regardless, he has to play this smart, has to carefully think through how to play this. When the other two finally catch up, Sokka bends over in mock-exhaustion, resting his hand on the large wall. An arrow plants itself in the dirt above their heads, but it’s too high up for the scary girl to be the one that shot it meaning it’s just out of reach for the others, but not for him. “Okay, hoist me up to that arrow, and I can swing up to the top. Then, Hahn you lift Jet and I’ll hoist him up, then the both of us will hoist you up last. From there we'll make our way to the docks.”

“Who died and made you captain?" Hahn replies, petulantly. "What if _we_ wanna go up first?” Hahn puffs up like he's made a valid point. Sokka feels his left eye twitch. Idiots. Sokka is working with idiots. 

“Do _you_ know how to climb a loose-dirt wall by yourself, dumbass?” Jet retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Cause I sure don’t. Sokka organized this, Sokka goes first.” Said boy gets ready to be lifted, but no one moves to help him. When he turns around, Jet is smirking with his hand out. Here it comes. “But, _we_ are keeping the fancy hair piece until we get to the top.” Sokka knew this was coming. He’s working with predictable, egotistical idiots. 

_Idiots._

“Fine, whatever, keep the _crown_ . Jackass.” He reaches up, pulling the satchel over his head. When he goes to throw it, his hand slips into the bag, and he slips the crown up his sleeve. Thank the Spirits the Caldera royal family are minimalists; it’s almost too easy. He tosses them the bag. “There, ya happy? Now can we get a move on. Or would you like to play target practice for the royal guard there.” As if on cue, an arrow flies above their heads past the top of the cliff. Thoroughly satisfied, Jet slings the satchel over his shoulder and motions for Hahn to lift Sokka up to the arrow; at least the guy is good at _something_. Grabbing the arrow, Sokka quickly vaults himself up the wall, being careful not to put too much pressure on the arrow as to dislodge it. Sokka’s been climbing trees and getting into trouble since he was old enough to walk, this is a piece of cake. 

Once he reaches the top of the dirt wall, he stretches his arms above his head and dusts off his tunic. He dislodges the crown from where it’s stuck in his sleeve and admires the craftsmanship, the way the gold almost sparkles in the sun’s rays. That is, of course when another arrow decides to whiz past his face, startling him so bad he falls to the ground and nearly dropping the flame-shaped crown. He hears his...companions struggling to make their way over the top of the hill, and peeks over the edge just in time to see Hahn lifting Jet onto his shoulders. Another arrow flies over his head. So the scary girl is back.

“Sokka! A little help here, man!” Sokka leans over the side, hand half over the edge. He smiles innocently.

“You know, Jet, I would, but,” he pops the crown back out of its hiding place. “I’m afraid my hands are full.” He laughs in satisfaction at their matching looks and protests of disbelief, bolting from the ridge and deeper into the forest. The sounds of hooves and shouting guards following him sends a pump of adrenaline from his heart to the rest of his body, and he whoops as he takes a sharp right turn and swings from a tree branch to the bottom of a shallow cliff. Another arrow bolt flies overhead, and Sokka smirks. 

Time to disappear. 

Distantly, he hears the black-haired girl shouting orders to the guard, but Sokka doesn’t have time to dwell on it (seriously, she looks so, _so_ familiar). He dives behind a shrub, being sure to keep as still as possible so the guards’ horses don’t pick up on his location. It takes a while — they have a _lot of freaking guards_ — but finally, the last beat of hooves flies past his hiding place and he can rise from his admittedly uncomfortable position. He twists his body to work out the cramps in his side, but when he leans on the wall to properly catch his breath, he face-plants on the other side of what apparently _wasn’t_ an actual wall. 

What the hell?

“Ow. That’s gonna smart,” he says to himself as he stands back up and dusts off his clothes. The crown has landed a few feet away, next to…a riverbank? Walking the few steps to reclaim his prize, Sokka takes a look around. This place is beautiful; it's a mini clearing hidden _within_ the foundation of the rolling hills of the forest with its _own_ forest. There’s a stream flowing from one side to the other and standing tall in the center of everything is a tower. An honest to god stone tower. 

Sokka must’ve hit his head when he landed in his shrub. 

Cautiously, Sokka walks closer to the building, still not really able to wrap his head around what he’s seeing. Circling the base he can tell there’s no way to the top without using the fancy pulley system on the East side. Something tells him that whoever lives here must be really good at not being found when they don’t want to, but that doesn’t stop the jolt of fear he gets when he hears the faint sound of hooves coming back in his general direction.

Sokka climbs. 

When he gets to the top, he _gratuitously_ falls on the floor directly under the window panting for breath. Sokka may be a great climber, but even he can admit that what was probably the equivalent of a two story climb with the chance of plummeting to your death is hard. In a way that gives him deja vu, the boy picks himself up off the ground straightening out his clothes inspecting the enormous room he’s just stumbled upon.

It’s even bigger on the inside than it looks from the ground. To the right, there’s a set of stairs leading to another room who’s door is shut tight. The ceiling is very high, and yet if he squints he can see that there are paintings (are those _constellations, holy shit)_ littering its surface. There’s a sitting area, complete with a fireplace and another shut door which probably leads to another room. On the top part of the wall directly across from him is a huge ornate canopy covering some kind of crawl space. It seems sort of out of place considering the rest of the room looks like it’s slowly deteriorating with age, and yet this drawstrings curtain doesn’t look more than a year old or so. Directly below that is the entryway to the kitchen. As Sokka is investigating his temporary hideout, something moves in the rafters above his head.

It was nice while it lasted. 

“Um, hello?” he calls out, and when no one replies he figures he imagined whatever it was he heard. But then it happens again, only this time Sokka sees something fly from one rafter to another. 

So maybe Sokka _shouldn’t_ have climbed into a stranger’s tower. He makes a mental note to never tell Katara if he made it out of this alive.

For a moment, nothing else happens. Sokka doesn’t hear any other sounds besides his own breathing, and sends a thanks to the spirits when he’s not ambushed by whoever might be living out here. He’s ready to go back to exploring when a glint of red shines in the sun causing him to immediately go back on the alert. The rafters are creaking again, and this time when he listens he can tell that someone (or something) is _walking_ up there. Steadying himself with a gulp, Sokka chances a look up. 

And immediately regrets it. 

Standing on one of the lower support beams is a creature who’s about as tall and as wide as a full grown Clydesdale and longer than a vegetable vendor’s cart. Its skin is covered in deep red scales that look like they’re shining as the sunlight hits them in different places through the cracks in the tower’s foundation. It’s got thick legs and feet, sharp black talons jutting out from its toes and putting scratches in the wood. He doesn’t see them at first, but he can see wings contracting themselves barely in and out of the side of its body. Its neck is long and curved, head big and daunting. The creature's tail hangs from the beam, the point at the end looking very lethal. 

He is _so_ not making it out of this alive.

And that’s the last though he has before an honest to god _dragon_ is launching itself at him and he falls and hits his head.

As he loses consciousness he’s pretty sure he hears someone say, “You were just supposed to _scare him_ , Druk, not kill him!” And then he’s out like a light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first official chapter! I have been pouring over this for like four days straight with no sleep, so I hope you guys enjoyed it! Like I said before, the next update should be in two weeks.  
> Comments/kudos always welcome :)  
> Come talk to me on my tumblr [here](http://zukkadaemons.tumblr.com)


	3. let go of all your troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, everyone (official) chapter 2!  
> I would like to say a special thanks to my new beta [kat](https://tak-cajaz.tumblr.com/)  
> this is...another kinda short chapter, i can't believe i made y'all wait two weeks for this nonsense, but i hope you enjoy

When Sokka comes to, his head is groggy and aching. He reaches up to rub at the sore spot on the back of his head, only to find that he decidedly _cannot_ do that because he’s been tied to a chair.

His eyes fly open, only to be met with near-complete darkness. He searched his brain, trying to remember just exactly what the fuck had gotten him here. For a moment, he can’t remember anything, and the very next everything comes flying to the forefront of his brain and Sokka has to force himself not to panic. 

Had he really come face to face with an actual _dragon_ ? No way was that real. And you know why? Because dragons _didn’t exist_ , they were _extinct_ , and yet he’s almost positive that one damn near bit his head off earlier that day. 

He’s going to pass out. _Again_. 

Forcing himself to keep his composure, Sokka searches for the only source of light this room seems to have, though he’s pretty sure there were more when he’d discovered it. Faintly, he can see the shadow of another person standing behind a candelabra. They’re holding something in one hand, the other resting on seemingly thin air, as their silhouette just kind of...disappears. Sokka considers calling out, then thinks better of it. The last time he’d done that did not end well for him.

So he waits. 

And waits. 

Waits a little bit more. 

“Are we just gonna sit here all day, or did you tie me up for a reason?” Sokka can’t help but blurt out. Internally, he face-palms. If he dies here, Katara is going to bring him back to life just to kill him herself. Why can’t he ever just _shut up?._ Oddly enough, the stranger jumps at Sokka’s question, though the blue-eyed boy can’t tell if it’s because of how loud Sokka’s question is as it intrudes on the previous silence or at the fact that Sokka, _as a hostage_ , had the audacity to speak at all. 

With his luck, it’s probably the latter.

He runs with it, trying to hide any uneasiness his voice might give away. “Like, based on how long we’ve been staring at each other this is probably your first time holding someone hostage, right? You’re probably trying to figure out what to do; do you interrogate me on how I got into your home, do you kill me, do you let me go? It’s all a lot to think about I’m s—" There’s movement, but not from the other person. Claws and scales _scratch scratch scratch_ the floor and suddenly, that Clydesdale-sized dragon is back and all up in Sokka’s grill. It (he?) lets out a low growl, and Sokka has lost all words he’d been using to...what? Coax his captor out of hiding? He’s not really sure _why_ he was talking so much just that he couldn’t _help_ but talk so much; it’s his nervous tick, sue him. Sokka gulps before continuing, “Nice dragon, there’s a nice dragon. Please don’t eat me, dragon.”

Said dragon, if possible, gets even _closer_ to his face.

“He’s not going to eat you,” the stranger ( _boy_ ) tells him. Which. Stupid move on his part, considering nothing is less scary than a dragon that doesn’t eat its owner’s captives. “Not if I don’t tell him to, anyway.” 

Okay, so Sokka stands corrected. 

“How did you find my tower?” the guy asks, still basked in shadow. Sokka rolls his eyes, _what a drama queen._

“I fell through the vines while running from the royal family's guards,” is Sokka’s reply. He keeps his face as straight as possible, trying not to laugh at the sputtering of his captor. 

“You _what_?” 

“I stole this fancy crown, because it’s worth a shit ton of money--honestly it's criminal how much money that family keeps to themselves--and when I sell it I can properly feed my friends and family. Speaking of which,” _dramatic pause_ , “any chances you could let me out of here? I only have a few hours before I’m expected to meet with the guy to buy this and if I’m even a half-second late there goes everything I quite literally risked my life for.” The dragon growls again. Sokka stares forward and resolutely keeps his face neutral.

“That tiny thing that fell out of your sleeve was supposed to be a crown? It was kind of...small.”

“Yes, the royal family has a weird obsession with minimalism, now can I have it back so I can _go?_ ” Sokka tries to control his emotions, it wouldn’t be smart to irritate someone who’s holding you captive, after all, but he can’t help but be a little impatient. He has somewhere to be, and if he isn’t at least five minutes early -- something that’s seeming less and less likely as this guy ignores his please -- he knows that he can kiss this deal goodbye. The dragon seems to be completely bored by his presence at this point, slithering off to stand by its master’s side once more. Sokka huffs in frustration. “I’m feeling a little disadvantaged here, dude, can you at _least_ come into the light so I can remember what the asshole who made me late for this meeting looks like.” _That way I can come back and kick your ass_ , he thinks in his head. He’s met with silence, again, but he knows the guy is definitely considering it; Sokka’s personality is too loud and brash to be ignored. 

Finally, because Sokka is always right, the other guy comes out of hiding. 

And Sokka _immediately_ forgets about any and all upcoming meetings. 

Because stepping out from behind the candelabra is probably the most attractive person he’s ever seen. The guy is around Sokka’s height, maybe a little taller. At first glance, he seems relatively skinny with no build, but then Sokka can see lean (very nice) muscles forming on the other’s arms and in his shoulders. He has nice smooth, fair skin, with silky black hair that pools around his shoulder. His face is beautiful, lips full and just _asking_ to be kissed, cheekbones sharper than the edge of Sokka’s sword, and his eyes are the most beautiful gold he’s ever—wait, _gold?_ “Dude, you have _golden eyes_.” Sokka will have to focus on the kissable lips later.

Sokka’s only seen golden eyes on one person in all of this kingdom's history, but they were on a mural and that person was a _baby_. No fucking way. 

The guy—and Sokka really needs to remember or find out his name because this is getting ridiculous—stops in his tracks, staring at Sokka as if he had two heads. Which, fair, because Sokka would probably react the same way to some random person questioning his appearance.

“Uh, yeah? And yours are blue,” comes his reply, like they’re playing some kind of game. “Everyone has different color eyes, why are you looking at me like that?” The dude is starting to look a little uncomfortable, hand coming up to stroke his dragon’s neck in an almost hypnotic manner. Sokka would feel bad if he wasn’t almost _absolutely sure_ —

“Dude, do you not know who you _are_?” Sokka asks incredulously. 

“Um, Zuko?” Says the guys— _Zuko_ —and wow they didn’t even try to change his _name_. 

“Dude, yes." That's such a distinct name, how could Sokka ever forget it, "You’re Zuko. _Prince Zuko_ . The long lost heir to the Caldera Royal Family. Everyone thought you were _dead_ .” The boy (prince!) once again stared at Sokka like he’s quite literally lost his mind. He can’t believe it. How the fuck did the prince end up way out here, and _why_ does he not know who he is?

Then, because Sokka’s life is apparently a comedy, Zuko _laughs_ at him. And continues laughing for at least a full minute. 

" _Me_ ? A _prince_?” Zuko says, barely starting to calm himself. "I've lived in this tower my entire life, I'm not a _prince."_ His dragon looks at him like he’s crazy; Sokka is inclined to agree. 

“It’s possible! I’ll even prove it to you. I’ll take you to the palace _myself_ ,” Sokka says, puffing out his chest. He is uncomfortably reminded that he’s not in any state to take anyone anywhere when the ropes rub his skin and chest. Zuko raises an eyebrow, smirking like he and Sokka are sharing the same thought. The dragon has the audacity to _snort_ at him, a puff of smoke leaving his nostrils. Sokka glares. “Don’t sass me, you overgrown lizard, I obviously meant _after_ your lovely owner lets me out of my restraints.” 

(Sokka doesn’t mention that there is a reward for the prince to be returned safely home, and that said reward has increased exponentially as the years have passed. He doesn’t mention that Queen Ursa has promised knighthood and more riches than Sokka could ever imagine having to the person who brings her beloved prince home. Her late husband, _Zuko’s father_ , had ceased the reward for a few years but once he passed away and Ursa had taken the throne, she resumed it immediately. She let her hope and love drive her; Ozai had given up (stopped caring) long ago.)

“Who said I was letting you out?”

“The look on your face when I offered to take you to the city,” is Sokka’s smug reply, and it’s his turn to smirk when Zuko’s mouth snaps shut and his eyes widen slightly. The reaction is there and gone in a second. Zuko's face becomes a stoic and imperceptible mask.

“It doesn’t matter how I reacted, I can’t go with you. My father would never allow it, and if he ever found out--” any remaining fight and playfulness leaves the golden-eyed boy now. “Druk,” he says, nodding towards Sokka and the dragon makes its way to Sokka’s side with its teeth bared. For a terrible moment, Sokka thinks ‘ _this is it, this is how I die’_ but suddenly the ropes around his body are falling to the ground and so is he. Zuko winces. “Sorry.”

As Sokka is dusting himself off, he hears Zuko shuffling in the common area around him, something opens and closes, and suddenly Zuko is right there in Sokka’s space.

Sokka has to physically restrain himself from jumping at the intrusion of his space and then from kissing the lips he spent so much time admiring earlier. Instead, he smiles, but when Zuko smiles back it’s sad and accepting. He glances down and when Sokka follows his gaze, he sees the crown resting in Zuko’s palms. Sokka looks disbelievingly at Zuko. The other boy just continues to hold his sad, pathetic smile and pushes the crown towards Sokka again.

Now, after everything he’s discovered, this hunk of metal feels worthless. He just needs to convince Zuko to—

“All my life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to see the floating lights that glow in the city every year. Leaving this tower, meeting new people, experiencing new things...but Zhao—my father—if he were to come back from his trip early and find me gone...I’m sorry, but I can not go with you. It would be dishonorable to go against my father’s wishes.” 

“Those lights— _lanterns_ — are for _you_ , Zuko, please.” But he can tell the words are falling on deaf ears. 

Sokka reaches out and grabs the tiny crown from Zuko’s hand. His fingertips brush the prince’s palm, and he ignores the spark he feels by wrapping his fingers securely around the golden flame. _You literally plan on turning him over to his family to make some good coin,_ says a voice that sounds suspiciously like Katara, _Keep it in your pants, moron_. Druk -- and who names a dragon _Druk_ \-- sniffs questioningly at him. Sokka has to resist the urge to pet him, instead looking at Zuko. “Please, Zuko. Come with me. I can take you to see the lanterns _and_ take you to your real home,” the blue-eyed boy pleads. He has to really work at trying to sound sympathetic and helpful rather than like someone who’s going to be filthy rich if this goes well, “I don’t know what whoever you live here with has told you, but this _isn’t_ your home. You don’t belong here, you belong in Caldera City. Just--”

“No. I’m sorry, you seem really nice, but I can’t just-just _leave_ . It’s too dangerous for me, I’ve _never_ left this tower, don’t you understand?” His voice sounds desperate, and his eyes look manic. Sokka presses on.

“But, Zuko--”

“I said, no!” Zuko’s eyes are wide, and belatedly Sokka realizes how close they are. Distantly, he hears Druk huffing uneasily at the newfound tension in the room. Zuko takes a calming breath. Sokka resists the urge to place a steadying hand on the other boy’s shoulder. He needs to play his cards right, and invading Zuko's personal space is sure to push him further away. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very polite, but you must go. Thank you for your offer.” And with that, Zuko turns away from Sokka, hand gripping Druk’s neck. Sokka hesitates, reaching out to...he’s not sure what. 

“I never asked for your name.” The question startles Sokka from his thoughts. Zuko’s head is turned to look at Sokka out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, Sokka considers lying. If Zuko’s... _whoever_ comes home and Zuko decides to rat him out, Sokka could be imprisoned by the end of the week. But it doesn't seem likely; whoever has kept Zuko this isolated for this long is clearly doing so for a reason. He doubts a random intruder who will probably never be back is enough reason for them to risk their security by running to the city watch. Plus, Zuko just...doesn’t seem like the type. Go ahead and call Sokka crazy since he quite literally was just being tied up by said boy, but that doesn’t make Sokka’s feeling any less true. Despite his talk about honor and following the rules, Zuko seems like a great guy, which is not what Sokka has come to expect from the world (see Hahn and Jet).

“It’s Sokka,” he says through a smile.

“It was nice to meet you, Sokka,” is the reply before Zuko turns his back once more, fiddling with something in his pocket. He does not smile back. When a few moments have passed, and it’s clear that Zuko has no intention of acknowledging Sokka’s presence any longer, he moves back toward the window. 

Straightening out his clothes once more, and with one last hopeful glance at his lost fortune, Sokka begins to climb out the window. 

-x-

 _Stupid stupid stupid_ , Zuko thinks to himself. Immediately following Sokka’s departure, Zuko had been pacing around the tower. _The Spirits handed me a way out of this tower on a silver platter, and I just let it walk away. What is wrong with me?_ From his spot by the fireplace, Druk looks on with mild concern, half dozed off only because Zuko’s mumbling prevents him from properly sleeping. The third time Zuko kicks the same astronomy book, Druk huffs in annoyance and comes to nuzzle into Zuko’s legs. Instinctively, the black-haired boy rests a hand on his dragon’s neck. 

“Druk, how could I have been so _stupid_ ?” He whines. Druk looks at him, unimpressed. “I know, I know; that was literally a blessing from Agni and I just threw him out like spoiled cheese. I’m an _idiot_.” Druk does the equivalent of an eye roll and Zuko glares. “You are _so_ not helping.”

For a moment they stare at each other in silence, Druk judgmentally and Zuko in annoyance, before the latter deflates, rubbing a hand down his face. Druk puffs his chest out, face smug with pride. With purpose, the dragon walks towards the window and stands on the ledge. He looks back at Zuko in a challenging way, and, okay, animals should not have this much attitude, Zuko did not raise him to behave this way. Zuko has barely enough time to mutter, “Don’t even think about it,” before said dragon leaps out the window, soaring through to the ground. 

“Motherf—Get off me you behemoth of a creature, you’re gonna _break me_.” Stunned, Zuko makes his way to the window and peeks over the ledge and blanches at the sight before him. Near the towers creek lays Sokka splayed out on his back with a look of befuddlement etched onto his face, his clothes clinging to him slightly with water. _On_ _top_ of Sokka lays Druk, their faces a mere few inches apart only because while Druk is doing his darndest to push into Sokka’s space. Sokka is doing _his_ darndest to push against the dragon’s chest to maintain some form of personal space. Druk is quite clearly winning this battle. 

He’s a _dragon_.

“Druk, what are you _doing_?!” Zuko exclaims. Without thinking twice, Zuko jumps out the window, using the pulley system’s ropes to shimmy his way quickly down the tower. Running to extract the other boy from his dragon’s clutches, he catches the wide-eyed look Sokka gives him and the smug look Druk gives him and doesn’t understand why. What’s gotten into them? The wind blows his hair in his face, and he trips over something hard in the ground, face planting into something soft yet scratchy. “Ow.”

“ _Zuko_ ,” comes a voice that’s suddenly much closer than he was expecting. “Dude, are you okay?” When he lifts his head, Sokka is hovering over him with shock on his face. When he glances over to Druk, he still looks smug. “Zuko?” Zuko just lays his face back in the grass, waiting for the pain in his neck to—wait, the _grass_? 

He shoots up, barely finding his feet as he turns and takes in his surroundings. All around him, instead of the stone walls of the tower, Zuko sees the greenery of the forest trees. Above him, instead of the wooden rafters Druk likes to play on, is the blue sky, sun shining. He wiggles his toes, reveling in the feeling of blades of grass under his feet rather than the creaky floorboards of his childhood home. _Oh_ . Taking a deep breath, his body sags with newfound relief at being somewhere other than that Spirits-forsaken tower. There are flowers growing near the creak, vines climbing their way up the tower’s exterior wall, and Zuko thinks he sees birds flitting about in the surrounding trees. It’s...it’s _beautiful_. Zuko never wants this moment to end. 

That is, of course, when Sokka absolutely _ruins_ the moment by opening his insufferable mouth. 

“What kind of childhood did you have that you’ve never even seen even the outside of your own tower?” Zuko turns to glare at Sokka and his incredulous tone but Druk beats him to it, pushing Sokka in the water with his snout. Druk looks immensely proud. Sokka looks like what Zuko imagines a drowned cat would look like. “Druk, dude, so _not_ cool.” Zuko laughs, making his way over to the dragon and running a hand over his scales. He wiggles his toes with each passing step. He decides he likes the feeling of the grass beneath his feet.

“I would apologize, but you did break into my tower earlier,” Zuko smirks, “So, I guess that means we’re even.” Sokka glares and mumbles something along the lines of _stupid lost princes and their stupid dragons_ , but accepts Zuko’s proffered hand to haul himself up anyway. “I’m not a prince,” he replies and ignores the way Sokka rolls his eyes. “Okay well, Druk and I will just be—“

“No!” Sokka yells, and an emotion flits across his face that Zuko can’t quite interpret. He physically gathers himself and says instead, “I mean—you’re already out here, right? This is one step closer to being out of that tower in your entire life, don’t you want to _properly_ use this opportunity?” Sokka looks...incredibly hopeful for someone who just met Zuko a few hours ago, and who was tied up as a hostage for most of the time. Zuko, understandably, is confused.

“I don’t know,” he replies uneasily. “I really should get back up—”

“Think about the lights,” Sokka barrels on like Zuko never said a word, making the latter pause in his argument. Sokka must see this as a win, because he keeps going, “You don’t want to believe you’re a prince, whatever, fine, but I can take you to see the lights—Spirits, the _lanterns_ —and if you still want to come back here after all that adventure, then I’ll bring you back. It’s only a two day trip in all, three if we do some sightseeing along the way, and your dad will never—” This is, of course, the wrong thing to say.

And Sokka must realize it the moment it leaves his mouth, eyes widening as Zuko stumbles back at his words. 

Shit, he’d forgotten all about Zhao in his admiration of this new and amazing view of their clearing. He let his excitement at future possibilities cloud his judgment, and now here he stood with a _stranger_ actually considering breaking a lifetime of rules and trust just to see some damn _floating lanterns_ . He is a horrible, awful, _terrible_ son. Zhao is going to find out and never leave Zuko alone again and he’s going to make him get rid of Druk and his life will be _over_. 

And yet. 

And yet he’s willing to risk all of that for the chance of fulfilling his lifelong dream; willing to risk never being allowed to see daylight again to trust in this...this stranger to take him to the one place he’s always wanted to travel. He looks at Druk, who has curled himself around Zuko’s legs in comfort and support, and smiles. He looks at Sokka, who looks hopeful and—well Zuko can’t quite identify the other emotion, but Zuko latches on to the hope. He thinks about Zhao’s words; “ _I see a boy with no real knowledge of the world trying to play man”_ and _“People are not to be trusted.”_

_****You’re too naïve to make it out in the real world_

He’s ready to prove him wrong. 

So he strokes Druk’s neck, causing the dragon to preen and arch his neck in a pleased gesture. He takes in Sokka, fully, for the first time; he seems, for the most part, unassuming and non-dangerous. He is around Zuko’s ago, [very] well-built in the muscular area. More so than Zuko, that’s for sure. He holds himself like someone who’s waiting for the world to crash around him. Zuko doesn’t know what could possibly make someone like Sokka— _free, free, free_ —ever feel like that. _He’s been out there with the thugs and liars_ , says a voice that sounds suspiciously like Zhao. _He’s going to bring you nothing but pain and then you’ll see that I was right_. 

Zuko desperately wants him to be wrong.

Looking into Sokka’s eyes (his beautiful blue eyes), Zuko takes a leap of faith. 

_You must promise me you’ll never leave this tower._

“Let’s prove my father wrong.”

Sokka’s blinding smile makes all his doubt disappear from Zuko's head; he is ready to let go. 

-x-

From her spot in the throne room, Queen Ursa reviews the plans for this year’s lantern festival.  _ 18 years _ , she thinks sadly,  _ 18 years since my beautiful baby boy was taken from me.  _ In those eighteen years, she has never once given up on her son, not even when her late husband had insisted she was being ridiculous and sentimental. When their daughter was born, Ozai had all but forbidden her to continue her search, but she had of course continued in secret. Iroh, Ozai’s brother, had helped, mourning the loss of his nephew nearly as much as she had. It was something they had kept between them, all the way through Ozai’s death. 

And now, someone has taken the only memento their family has left of his existence. 

She sends away the palace worker with a flick of her wrist and a smile as the main doors to the grand foyer are flung open. A young girl, aged 15, strolls in like she owns the room, and her presence just solidifies it. Her hair is pulled into an immaculate topknot, not a single piece out of place. Though her clothes are wind blown from her ride, there are no obvious wrinkles in the fabric. A smirk is plastered on her face, but Ursa knows better by the look in her eyes. 

She has not come bearing good news. 

“If I could have a moment alone with my daughter,” she requests from the rest of the staff. They bow to her, exiting, and as they exit Ursa and the girl stay in place. The moment the doors close, however, the two rush towards each other, embracing one another tightly. “Oh, my sweet Azula, are you alright?”

Azula doesn’t let out a verbal sniffle, but Ursa knows her daughter. “Mother, they  _ stole it _ .  _ Why  _ would they steal my brother’s crown, I want it  _ back _ .” Ursa holds her tighter, shushing her [possibly] only remaining child. “I promise I’m going to get it back.”

“It’s alright, my flower. I do not blame you for its loss. I know you did your best to get it back.”

“I never even got to meet him.”

The two ladies sit there a few moments, folded together on the floor, before Azula takes a steadying breath and retracts from her mother’s grip. Her face is once again impassive, her smirk settled firmly on her face. There is nothing Ursa wants more than to have both of her children here at home, but she doesn’t want to lose the well-being of one to preserve the life and memory of the other. She would need to talk to Iroh, have him distract Azula with other “important” matters while the sting of the lost prince’s crown eases throughout the castle. She smiles at her daughter, trying to hide her sadness. 

_ Nearly sixteen years since this beautiful girl was born. Ten years since she had to explain everything to her daughter. Six years since said daughter became dedicated to leading the royal guard and finishing the search for her brother on her own. _ She has had to grow up too fast.

“Come help me with some of the preparations. This year’s going to be the best celebration, yet.” Azula’s lips quirk at the sides for a brief moment before returning to their neutral position. There and gone, if you blink then you’ll miss it. 

Ursa will take what she can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm screaming, zuko is honestly so dramatic  
> come talk to me on my tumblr, [here](https://zukkadaemons.tumblr.com/)  
> read [now that i see you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344675) by lesmiserablol, a much better version of this au than mine

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Zhao is an ass in all universes, he just can't help himself. I Told You All to take that tag with a grain of salt.  
> Come talk to me on my tumblr [here](https://zukkadaemons.tumblr.com/)  
> Next chapter we jump to modern-day, no filler chapters for now.


End file.
